Fairy Tales and Imaginary Friends
by WickedForGood13
Summary: An alternate ending to 'The Beast Below.' What if the Doctor and Amy's conversation had gone a little differently? Includes tears, laughter, and kissing . . .


**So, I'm completely new to **_**Doctor Who**_**, in terms of both the show and fanfiction. But I fell in love with the 11****th**** Doctor/Amy pairing of Season 5, and felt that there were unexplored feelings left over from the first two episodes (which, by the way, are the only episodes I've seen so far, so keep that in mind when reviewing). This takes place at the end of Episode 2, 'The Beast Below'. Happy reading!**

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><p>He could sense her – before she even made her presence known – he could <em>feel<em> her approaching.

"We did it," she said softly.

"_You_ did it," he corrected her gently.

"Are you still going to send me back?" asked Amy, bowing her head to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

"No, dear girl," the Doctor replied, hooking a finger under her chin so that their faces were level. "I'm not going to send you back."

Amy closed her eyes in relief, a tentative smile starting to spread. "Thank you," she whispered.

The Doctor drew her into his arms, which were able to wrap completely around her slight form, and held on tight. In those two words, he could hear more than Amy probably thought he could. He could hear her thanking him for not abandoning her – which seemed to be the norm for those in her life, from her parents to her aunt; she was thanking him for coming back for her – two years ago, and then again, the previous night; she was thanking him for saving her from her previously dull existence . . . all this she managed to convey in only two words.

"I'm not leaving you behind again," he whispered in her ear. "I already lost out on 12 years with you – or 14 years, depending on how one looks at it. I refuse to sacrifice any more of our time together."

"Why?" asked Amy, voice muffled slightly from being buried against the Doctor's neck. "It's not like I'm anyone special."

"On the contrary, you are _very_ special – to me."

"Why?" Amy asked again.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

Amy shook her head.

"I see a young woman who is brave and kind, witty and intelligent, funny and opinionated . . . I see a young woman who let a strange man in a funny blue box into her house and fed him. And I am exceedingly grateful that this same young woman forgave me for taking so long in coming for her – for seemingly abandoning her – and was willing to trust a crazy time traveler enough to follow him into the future."

"What are you saying?" asked Amy.

"What else have I been trying to say with every word out of my mouth? I love you, Amelia Jessica Pond."

Amy gasped. "You love _me_?"

"Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

All Amy could do was nod. "Yes – yes, it is. All my life I've been known as 'Crazy Amy.' My only friend was Rory – dear, sweet Rory – who was willing to play dress-up with me as I relived my secret fantasy that one day you'd come back for me."

As Amy spoke, she kept a close watch on the Doctor – _her_ Raggedy Doctor – and so was able to catch the look of guilt that came over him at the reminder of how long he'd kept her waiting.

Unable to bear the palpable agony that was there in his eyes, Amy resorted to burrowing her head in the material of his shirt and continued speaking, the sound reverberating against his chest.

"Everyone I've ever cared for has left me – my parents, my aunt – even you. And _that_, I think, was what hurt the most. I still remember what you said to me on that first night – "Do I look like people?" I believed you – I believed _in_ you. And you let me down, just like everyone else."

"Amy, I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered brokenly. And Amy, despite not having known him for very long, could just _tell_ that he was close to tears – tears for her, and what he'd put her through.

"It's alright. Everything's going to be fine, remember?"

"You aren't just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" asked the Doctor.

Amy wasn't sure whether he was joking or not. She remembered everything about that night – the words they'd exchanged – _everything_. But what had stood out the most to her was the way in which he'd promised her exactly the same thing, that everything would be fine . . . the look in his eyes that compelled her to trust him – even as he'd said that, to most people, such words were empty promises. The difference between her Doctor and everyone else was that she believed _him_. She felt safer with him than she ever had with another person before.

"Everything's going to be fine," Amy repeated, both to reassure herself and the Doctor.

At hearing her speak words that were meant to soothe and comfort, the Doctor pulled her – if possible – even closer, reveling in the feel of having his arms around her, and promised himself that he'd never be late again . . . not for Amy, _his_ Amy.

During this, in an idle part of his highly superior brain, the Doctor realized that while he'd admitted his feelings for Amy, she had yet to do the same.

As though reading his mind, Amy chose that moment to say, "And, by the way, Doctor, I love you too."

The Doctor's face split into a wide grin and he pulled back to regard Amy to check that she wasn't merely placating him.

There was no trace of pity in Amy's face – only a brilliant smile beaming up at him.

"I've loved you since you crash-landed in my backyard," she continued. "You became my hero the moment you showed concern at my fear of the crack in my wall. No grown up had ever cared for me the way you did. I'd never felt that way before; I was instantly smitten. I looked up to you in the way that only a little girl could – you were the epitome of goodness and could do no wrong. And when you delayed your departure to reassure me that you'd be back . . . that sealed it for me."

The Doctor crushed her to his chest again, overcome with joy at having found a partner to share in his travels – at least, for a little while.

"Do you want to continue this conversation on TARDIS?" asked the Doctor tactfully, realizing that Amy had fourteen years of emotions to get off her chest and it might be best if they were in a more private setting.

Amy nodded, grateful for the Doctor's ability to sense when things were about to get emotional and providing her with a means to cope.

Keeping his arm securely fastened around her shoulder – with hers about his waist – the Doctor guided Amy back to TARDIS, opening the doors with a snap of his fingers and settling her on a plush couch before approaching the control panel.

Randomly punching in coordinates, the Doctor returned to Amy, sighing with pleasure as she snuggled into his side.

They sat that way for several moments, the silence a peaceful respite from the previous bustle aboard the Starship UK.

"I waited for you all night," said Amy suddenly. "I'd packed my suitcase with my pitiful belongings – all of my worldly possessions – and then went to sit by the shed, anticipating your return. But you never came."

The Doctor's arm tightened around her, a wordless reassurance that he'd not leave her waiting again.

"At first, I was in denial," Amy continued. "But as the days, weeks, and years went by, I lost hope – not in your existence, as all my psychiatrists wanted me to, but in your having cared for me."

"I care for you, Amy," interjected the Doctor. "I did then, and I do now."

In response, Amy shifted her body so that she was practically resting in the Doctor's lap.

"I know, Doctor," said Amy patiently. "Even as I was forced to grow up in a world that condemned me for believing in a mad man with a blue box, a small part of me held on to the emotion I'd seen in your eyes that night – love."

The Doctor bent his head to press a light kiss to Amy's brow.

"That didn't mean I wasn't affected by others' opinions of me, though," Amy continued. "Despite detesting those around me, at the same time, I craved their approval. So, I started acting up – in school and at home – for attention. Thing was, I got the wrong kind of attention. That's what led to my 'job' as a kissogram."

"That doesn't have to be your life any more, Amy Pond," whispered the Doctor to her. "You can stay with me and explore all of time – past, present, and future."

"I think I'd like that," said Amy, smiling shyly up at the Doctor – _her_ Doctor, she kept reminding herself.

At that moment, she was overcome with a sudden bought of fatigue – saving the future British population could do that to a person.

"Sleep, Amelia," ordered the Doctor gently. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

Gradually lowering her defenses for the first time in years, Amy Pond found that she was powerless to resist the pull of dreamland, and so slowly closed her eyes.

The Doctor watched the steady rise and fall of Amy's breathing, and found comfort in knowing that she wouldn't be going anywhere.

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><p>"No, please . . . Don't leave me, not again," Amy called out to someone in her sleep.<p>

The Doctor, instantly on alert the minute Amy had begun moving within the iron-tight grip of his arms, began to carefully shake the trembling girl in an effort to wake her.

"_Doctor!_" Amy cried.

At hearing Amy call for him, the Doctor stilled his movements, correctly guessing that she was having some sort of dream that involved him going off without her.

"Amy, I'm right here," he began whispering urgently. "You're on TARDIS, in space. We're together. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. Amy . . ."

In some subconscious part of her mind – the same part that had been aware of him even as Prisoner Zero had attempted to take over – Amy heard the Doctor's words and found she was being pulled out of the darkness and towards the light. As the room swam into focus, Amy became aware of the Doctor leaning over her, eyes filled with concern.

As recognition dawned, the Doctor pulled back, giving Amy space to recover on her own.

"You alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied, determined to protect him from the guilt her dream would inevitably incite within him.

"Bad dream?"

"You could say that."

"Want to talk about it?"

Amy paused. The Doctor would no doubt get her to confess, eventually, as to what was bothering her, so she might as well get it over with.

"I dreamed that you left me," she said.

"I figured as much," said the Doctor. "In your sleep, you were begging someone not to leave you, again. Then, you called out to me. After that, it wasn't too hard to put the pieces together."

Amy remained silent, unsure of how to respond.

"No matter what you may dream, believe me now when I promise to never _willingly_ leave you, ever again."

"Really, you promise?" asked Amy, who instantly bowed her head in shame at the surprisingly child-like question.

Ducking his head down to be at eye-level with her, the Doctor said, "I promise, Amelia Jessica Pond, to never willingly be parted from you – though time and space may conspire against us."

At hearing such solemn words, Amelia couldn't help herself – she giggled.

"And what, may I ask, is so amusing?" asked the Doctor, attempting to sound cross but failing miserably.

"Nothing," said Amy, sobering instantly. "I'm just so happy."

The Doctor's face softened. "Well, I intend to make you happy for a very long time."

As he spoke, he took her hands in his and placed a chaste kiss on each knuckle. As he turned them over to kiss her palms, Amy tugged them out of his grasp – but not before the Doctor had caught a glimpse of the numerous scars that decorated her wrists.

"Amelia, what have you done?" he asked – horrified at the sight before him – in the same tone he'd used when they were on Starship UK.

"I don't know," Amy wailed. "You'd left, and I was confused. I knew what I'd seen, but everyone around me refused to believe – instead, they persisted in telling me that you weren't real and that I was crazy for saying otherwise."

"But was that any reason to hurt yourself?" asked the Doctor, disappointed, yet sympathetic to Amy's plight.

"Probably not, but it was a coping mechanism – a way for me to feel something other than the numbing shock that constantly threatened to overwhelm me."

The Doctor guided her onto his lap and held her as she began to cry.

"Shh . . . It's alright, I'm here," he whispered over and over again. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. I promise."

At last, Amy's tears dried and she slowly raised herself up to meet the Doctor's caring gaze.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it was stupid and reckless of me, but I honestly had no other way of dealing with everything – your abandonment, no one believing me when I told them about the mad man with the blue box who ate fish fingers and custard . . . It was too much to handle."

"I know, and I'm sorry too," said the Doctor. "Like I've explained, TARDIS was still new and, therefore, had a tendency to malfunction. I had no way of knowing that five minutes for me would be twelve years for you."

"It's alright," said Amy, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Is it, really?" asked the Doctor, pinning Amy with his most intense stare.

"Now that we're together, why worry about what kept us apart in the past?"

"Why, indeed?" the Doctor murmured, transfixed by Amy's eyes.

All while they'd been speaking, their heads had been inching towards each other, ever so slowly, until their lips were mere millimeters apart.

"Is this alright?" the Doctor inquired.

Amy's nod was all the encouragement he needed to fuse their lips together.

To the Doctor's credit, he attempted to keep the kiss sweet and simple, but Amy would have none of it. She attacked his lips, even nipping as she asked for entrance to his mouth – entrance that he gladly granted.

When they both pulled back, breathless, Amy quipped, "Well, you're the first doctor who hasn't seemed to mind being bit."

"Not in the least," the Doctor gasped.

At his words, their lips came together again – this time, much gentler, though. When they drew apart, there was an identical look of awe on each of their faces.

Then, as if by mutual consent, the Doctor lay down on the couch, positioning Amy on top of him. He made sure to wrap his arms securely around her, though, for it wouldn't do to have her falling off in the middle of the night – or whenever the heck it was.

"Good night, Pond," said the Doctor, affectionately.

"Good night, Doctor," replied Amy.

Right before the darkness enveloped her completely, Amy heard the Doctor whisper, "I've got you."

She fell asleep with a smile on her face – at peace for the first time since her Raggedy Doctor had appeared, like an angel sent from Heaven, to save her from life in Leadworth.


End file.
